Revenge Of Ruatha
by Only Some Stardust
Summary: Lessa makes an actual friend, and nothing is quite the same. A bolder Lessa who will not forget that the dragon riders did nothing to save Ruatha, and swears revenge.


**Revenge of Ruatha**

**Summary: **Lessa makes friends among the drudges, gains more self confidence, and with less willingness to deal with the abusiveness of the Dragon Riders, she swears revenge for their abandonment of Ruatha Hold. With a different Lessa, one less willing to accept nonsense, everything changes.

**A/N**_: Disclaimer, I am not the biggest Pern fan ever. This work at times serves as a critique and deconstruction of Pern, particularly the character F'lar who sucks with a thousand suns. Disagree? Then don't read. It is also slightly AU; there is no time travel in this. It opens too many plot holes. As such the 'old timers' are present timers, and the current population is simply a bit low. This work was heavily inspired by the Slacktiverse's Pern deconstruction, which I recommend looking up via google or duckduckgo or a search engine of your choice. :D F'lar is a jackass.  
_

_**Warnings** for implied rape, genocide of an entire hold, abuse, sexism, classism._

_I may also at some point occasionally use the word 'they' as a single person gender neutral pronoun or the word 'xe'. These are in fact grammatically correct, and 'they' has been in use for that manner for centuries; I believe Jane Austen did so once. _

_No 'Fax gives up Ruatha' nonsense; that makes no sense, who would give something up after going to effort conquering it? And also made less idiotic in general._

_**Use:** Others who wish to use this fic as a basis for their own are welcome to._

* * *

Drudgelife.

Lessa had been a drudge for almost as long as she could remember now. She huddled together with other drudges for warmth, but also for companionship. In another world perhaps she never would have befriended them, too haughty to as the daughter of the Lord of the Hold, but, Lessa no longer had the luxury of looking down her nose upon potential allies. Drudges were almost hated or even outright so, looked down upon as ragged and barely better than dogs, only fit for menial labor, and under the domain of Fax they were often not safe from extreme punishment. Yet, they made up the bulk of the hold.

"I've been helping make the grass grow out as you plotted, Lessa," one of her companions, a lady named Nan, confessed. She had short hair and a short stature, but a kindly heart, in Lessa's admittedly extremely biased opinion. Besides the watch-wehr, she was her closest friend.

"Good," she said, shivering. "I am almost considering putting a fire on the hearth, even if it would make our overseer happy."

"No, don't do it Lessa," said Nan. "I didn't suffer a beating just to make our hated overlords warm."

They had been engaging in petty acts of rebellion for quite some time; making sure things didn't get washed, that fires didn't get lit, that windows got left open and clothing got damp. Slowly, Lessa had been gathering support. It had happened almost on accident one day; she had overheard Nan muttering about how much she hated Fax, and soon found out that many here, including many of the cooks, despised him almost as much as Lessa did.

Fax. The man who self styled himself as conqueror, who had slaughtered Ruatha Hold and taken it as his own. It was for him that Lessa did not have the luxury of looking down upon drudges.

Today was the day, hopefully, of his murder.

"Soon we won't have to settle for such petty acts," Lessa reassured Nan. Double checking that they were alone in the poorly heated room, and that no one was outside, she bent back down and whispered. "Fax is coming. He isn't too pleased about the 'accident' that befell his last overseer of the Hold, but he isn't on guard. He's even bringing the heavily pregnant Lady Gemma, and his armed guard is lighter than usual. He's grown lax over years of no opposition. This is our chance to kill him once and for all!" The plan was simple, and they'd already gone over it. Poison. One of the cooks could be convinced to look the other way... through her talent if necessary. Sometimes she found she could persuade people subtly.

"But Lessa," Nan paused. "What about your legitimacy? They might not accept a female Lord Holder."

"I have support. It's small, but it's there. Everyone here will be pleased and grateful to me, and I can play off that." Lessa straightened, standing confidently. "I've heard rumors that riders will be arriving soon, too. I can use them as protection in cause one of Fax's men gets ambitious and tries to take his place! They won't allow a murder right in front of their noses, I hope, which is exactly why we have to be discreet. And if we can get them to acknowledge my legitimacy, everyone will. It's perfect, don't you see?"

Nan still looked worried, rising to stand up herself from her sitting spot on the floor in her rags. "It's risky, Lessa." Then she sighed. "But we have no choice. We can't take any more of being starved and beaten while Fax's men take everything good and decent. We need better. We need you."

Lessa gazed at Nan fondly. "Thank you, Nan." Then, Nan's face grew rapidly alarmed.

"HEY!" a voice shouted, and Lessa jumped, inwardly fearing they'd been discovered. "So there you two are, shirking work I see? It's time to get back to work!"

With an inward snarl, Lessa walked out. Soon, soon there would be no more of _this. _She swore it by the first Egg of Pern, no more bowing down to others. Ruatha was hers.

Then she paused, for she felt the watch-wher call out to her.

.

* * *

.

F'lar gazed down at the Hold as he and his dragon Mnemeth descended from the air, enjoying as some of the stupider ones fled in terror from him as he dove past them for a landing. He expected a certain degree of hospitality, and everyone knew dragons did not hurt people. But it was, in his opinion, for the best that they feared dragons and their riders, for a certain amount of fear was healthy for deference.

As long as they remembered to tend to him and not simply flee entirely.

His brother F'nor was at his side for this search, also on his own dragon. The two dismounted. Today was an important day, one for searching for new fresh blood. The gold egg on the sands was going to be one of very few gold dragons on Pern, now that the queen who had laid her was wasting away. She, that future gold dragon, was the last of his Weyr, and held its hope. It was not the only weyr, but if wanted to stay independent from the other weyrs it needed this. From Ista there was weyrleader D'ram and weyrwoman Fanna of golden Mirath, though D'ram was getting on in age now, and of Igen Weyr there was Nadira and her gold Baylith and her weyrleader G'narish, and from Fort Weyr there was weyrleader T'ron and weyrwoman Mardra and her gold dragon Loranth. Their clutches had been small of late, and he did not know if any of them would be happy to lend a precious gold egg to his Weyr if this one failed to impress or hatch, though that ultimately would be up to his weyrleader to negotiate.

With so few queens, every single one was precious, especially as it did not seem likely Mirath would be having any more clutches or very many more. If this egg did not impress, that would leave effectively only two breeding. A precarious situation to say the least, especially when he suspected thread to be just around the corner.

He gazed at some of the drudges with interest._ 'Adversity, uncertainty: those were the conditions that bred the qualities F'lar wanted in a Weyrwoman.' _But these were not really what he desired to take his pickings from_. 'Overworked, underfed, scarred by lash and disease, they were just what they were – drudges, fit only for hard, menial labor.'_(1)

"Fax is a monster, F'lar," Lytol, a man who had lost his dragon, said to him. "He beats anyone who defies him, he killed an entire hold that defied him... I beg you F'lar, kill him."

"I may, though I cannot just kill a man with any old excuse," argued F'lar. "I am here first and foremost for the search, Lytol. That comes first. If he disobeys tradition and does not let us search, I could kill him then perhaps."

Lytol looked disgruntled. "F'lar... please."

"I must follow tradition, Lytol. Fax has not been tithing to us or respect the dragon riders properly. It is possible you will get what you wish, but I will do what I must and no more."

"F'nor?" Lytol glanced to his brother.

"I follow my brother," F'nor said apologetically.

.

* * *

.

Lessa peered at Fax from behind a corner with interest. Things were not quite going to plan. There were more men than she had heard were going to be here. What had set everything off?

"The dragon riders are a menace," he spoke to his men, rallying them. "Their tithes are ridiculous, and their requirements to keep farming so tightly close to the holds even more so. You know I have not followed such requirements, and it has done us well. Have you not been rewarded well under me?" he spoke smoothly, charismatically even. Speak what one wanted of him, but he did know how to draw brutes to him. That was how he had gained his army.

"Aye!" they shouted. Lessa stared at them in hatred, wondering which of them had blood stained on their hands for mere land and goods, which of them had participated in the slaughter of her family.

"I hear now that the dragon riders will be searching here soon," Fax continued his speech. "I will allow them, but be ready if they try something more and demand tithes of us again. Remember, their dragons cannot appear in spaces smaller than themselves, and inside the hold the dragonriders will be at disadvantage; without their dragons they are only men. They will have to dismount to search. Do not necessarily kill them however; they are more valuable hostage, for if a rider dies his dragon dies as well. We can coax it to do our bidding by blackmailing it with the rider's life."

_No, _Lessa thought in horror. Fax was bad enough on his own, but Fax with dragon riders at his bidding? He would be unstoppable. The world, he could take all of Pern over! Today, she determined, grimacing. Today he would die. He had to.

"Nan, is the poison ready?"

"Yes, Lessa," Nan whispered in her ear.

_Good_, she nodded firmly, then turned her gaze to the heavily pregnant lady Gemma who she felt immediately sorry for. If the child was a boy, Lessa could not afford to let it live lest others recognize it as heir over her own proper claim. But more, she had heard Fax planned to let Lady Gemma die in childbirth and often beat her, offering her no care. The man truly was a monster.

"Mi'lord, the dragon riders have arrived."

"What?"

Ah. So that was what she'd sensed. Unfortunate, yet, perhaps this could be what she hoped for. Some dragon riders were known for being honorable, and if Fax was not quite prepared for them yet, then it would make it easier to use them to pick off his guards after he died. She had tried to arm the few supporters she had as best she could, but it was difficult when utmost secrecy was of importance. The rebellion could not afford to fail, for it would likely be their last. Fax would certainly kill them all if they failed; he had destroyed a hold once, he could do it again.

No one had suspected her existence so far, and that was the luckiest break possible. Although, even if she had just been a drudge of lowly background, Lessa was not above lying to get her way. This was too important to just roll over for the sake of tradition. Everyone's life was at stake here.

And apparently, Pern as well now.

"Alright, let them in. We shall see what they ask for," Fax stated. "Only a few, correct, and dismounted? That should not be too difficult to handle."

Lessa found herself face palming. The morons, they dismounted their dragons? They actually let go of their primary weapon while around the untrustworthy bastard who had no compunctions around slaughtering an entire hold? Were they really that lacking in self preservation and that incredibly, incredibly sharding stupid?!

Apparently, they were.

As they came in, she watched them, noting that at least they were not unarmed, though she could not help but sigh. Truly, their arrogance was unrivaled. It seemed like it was up to her to rescue them, if it came to that.

"We shall feast!" ordered Fax, and finally, finally, her plan could spring into action. Lessa gave a shy smile and ducked away before anyone could notice her; although, it seemed she was not quite fast enough, for one of the dragon riders glanced in her direction. Not yet, dragon rider, not yet. Soon you shall know of me, she mentally promised.

.

* * *

.

"This food is disgusting," raged F'lar not so much time later. "You dare serve this to dragon riders? Could your hold not manage better?"

Fax paused, gazing down at it with distaste. "It is quite a disgrace. Mine seems to be alright, but, you are quite correct. This crop is poor and the flavorings are terrible all around."

F'lar looked over at a drudge who approached and spoke, "Lady Gemma is going into labor, sir."

"It is no concern of mine," Fax yawned it off.

F'lar stared. "Don't you care about your own spouse?"

"I have had many ladies, I will simply get another after this if she does not survive. She has grown boring and tiresome to me."

"The food... would you not wish to perhaps renounce the awful hold for failing to serve you?"

"No." Fax now looked quite perplexed. "Dragon rider-"

"Bronzerider F'lar," F'lar corrected. Proper respect was important.

"That would be quite senseless. Why would I give up a hold I spent so much effort conquering? No. It seems it is simply time to punish these folk again for insubordination. Surely you, rider, understand the purpose of a firm hand?" Fax spoke to him condescendingly, like he was an idiot. "I destroyed this hold once, I can do it again. A cleansing seems to be in order. The rot has seeped in and the land grown rebellious again; perhaps beatings alone will suffice, but there is nothing quite like cutting the rot clean away, don't you say?"

F'lar stared. "A cleansing?" His voice was discomforted, then a look of calculation passed on his face for a moment. "Do not think you can escape letting us search. It is our right, and we cannot do so if you are killing our potential candidates."

"Far be it from me to stop you, dragon rider," Fax gave a small, mocking bow. "Search away. I can burn the hold down after you are gone."

"You mean to kill everyone?" F'nor broke in to the conversation, horrified. "You can't do that!"

"I did it last time, and you did not stop me. Why should the dragon riders care this time if they did not before? It is tradition that I can do with my hold as I like, is it not?"

F'nor looked at his brother pleadingly, gaze clearly begging_ 'F'lar, stop this, you cannot let this go on_'.

F'lar's mouth set in a gruesome downward twist, teeth showing. "You will not be able to pay the tithe if you kill your hold," he argued. "For such an insult I would challenge you to a duel."

"Who says I am going to pay tithes any more, rider?" Fax stood, glaring. "Men, surround them."

F'lar jumped from his seat and on to the table before they could grab him, leaping after Fax. The other man had a look of a fighter about him, so he did not much fancy this fight especially if he was soon to be outnumbered. He unsheathed his blade and swung at him, and the man parried him with a blade of his own, smirking at him.

The retinue rushed F'nor, and F'lar worried about his brother. There was no way he could fight off so many men, and he almost considered surrendering. His dragon cried in fear in his head, begging him not to die this day.

"Give up, dragon rider, and we will let you and your dragon live," Fax offered mercy. "You cannot hope to win, and you cannot risk dying if you care about your dragon. Give in."

His pride would never let him do such a thing. Inwardly, he suspected Fax knew that, for the man lunged at him and they traded blows.

"Drudges, surround them! Protect the riders!"

_What._

The phrase he had just heard was no nonsensical (Those vapid airheads? Plotting to protect HIM?) and unexpected that he almost missed dodging the potentially fatal blade swipe at his throat and received a cut to his shoulder. What he saw next was even more shocking; rows of drudges rushing in, dressed in nothing better than rags and often wielding nothing better than a kitchen knife or broom. They outnumbered Fax's men however, and hounded them. For this, many were rewarded with death. But this small rebellion seemed to start even more, as everyone at the hold after hearing Fax's speech realized their lives were at stake.

He struggled with Fax, and found himself aided, humiliatingly, by a girl who tripped Fax from behind. The upperhand now his, he leveled his blade at Fax and smirked.

Just then, F'nor gave a cry, pushed down by some of the men and a knife put to his throat. "Stop, or this rider gets it!" One of the men shouted. Many of the drudges and holders stilled in their attacks.

F'lar hesitated, and slowly lowered his blade. He could not let his brother die. It seems he had lost, and there was nothing more he could do. "I gi-" he started to say, but stopped at the sight of a sick looking Fax before him falling to the ground. "I didn't touch him!" he shouted, backing away. Thankfully, everyone else was too confused to attack F'nor, and Fax's men looked on.

Bizarrely, Fax clutched at his throat and started to gurgle, falling to the ground and convulsing. The man was dying and F'lar had barely made a scratch on him! The retinue of armed men seemed extremely agitated and lost at what to do at this as the man lay dying, some of them rushing to try and aid him, which gave F'lar opportunity to abandon Fax and seek to aid his brother. He struck the distracted man responsible for holding F'nor down and helped his brother up immediately.

"You okay?"

"Yes. What in the world is going on?" F'nor pursed his lips. "It's gone to the dogs here."

It hit him. Sabotage.

Someone poisoned him.

The same someone, he bet, as who organized the drudges. And, he bet, had been responsible for the sorry state of the food. Uncomfortably, he wondered if he himself had been poisoned tonight, and unconsciously started to lift his hand to his throat before he realized what he was doing. Had he been played like a fool? Had someone used the dragonriders as a mere distraction to organize their own plot? He did not appreciate being used.

"Fax is dead," he overheard.

Then, not a second later, a midwife came in and shouted an announcement.

"Lady Gemma has died in childbirth, it's a boy!"

It was a lot at once.

"Then the boy is the new lord here. Lytol can be the caretaker until the boy is of age." F'lar ordered, staring at the men and daring any of them to disobey him. Some of them looked like they were thinking of it, though they seemed to be superstitious of dragon riders and wary of crossing him and his brother.

"Not so fast."

He turned his head to look at a raggedy, barely bigger than a child girl. Or was it a woman? They were incredibly filthy, skinny, and probably ugly under all that grime too. "My name is Lessa, and I am the rightful ruler of Ruatha. I am the last of its bloodline, that this conquerer unrightly sought to extinguish."

Things were moving fast, and F'lar almost felt like he was getting a headache. What an uppity woman. "He has a male heir, by all rights, it falls to him."

"You would prioritize the bastard's right over mine?" she said in shock. "I saved your ungrateful little life!"

"So you poisoned him," he glared at her. "And the boy is not a bastard, the man was partnered to Lady Gemma, rest her body in peace."

"Yes! Before he could kill us all! You should be thanking me! And the boy is an illegitimate ruler, he and his father have no rights over us!" Lessa rose her voice steadily in anger. "I, on the other hand, only murdered to protect my hold. It belongs to me, bronzerider."

"It doesn't matter now, because," F'lar began triumphantly, "I have just found my candidate. I am taking you for impression. You can't be a holder and a dragon rider at once."

Lessa seemed to mull this over. As she should, so he made it even more tempting.

"As one of the few queenriders, and weyrwoman, you would be even more powerful than you would be as a holder," he coaxed. "Besides, it is the right of the weyr to take what candidates we like, and I see a strong candidate in you."

"Not quite, dragon rider," she said with a note of calculation. "It is tradition not to take for impression the heirs of Lords, is it not? I am heir and Lady here. I will consider it, strongly. In the mean time, take leave of my hold! I must put things in order here. They need me right now."

"You are a female, not a Lord." F'lar stated, dismissing the idea and knowing in his heart that she could not possibly resist the charms of dragons. She had not said no to it and was clearly favorable to the idea. "I am making the boy Lord, and you will come with me."

"What? No!"

F'lar grabbed at her, and almost succeeded; she was severely malnourished and struggled poorly against him but barely slipped away and ran. "Are you a coward, afraid of the stands?" he shouted, and she glared at him.

"I am not a coward!" she shouted.

He chased her off toward his dragon, his brother following shortly, and not so far away he heard the angry scream of a watch-wher. He ducked to the side and turned to see an angry maddened beast charging at him, trying to stop her from being kidnapped. Really, F'lar planned no harm to her, this was quite unnecessary!

Mnemeth struck down with his tail to protect his rider, blocking him safely away and also preventing Lessa from going any further, and then with a great and powerful set of claws knocked the poor watch-wher flat down. An ugly crack made him freeze for a moment.

_Mnemeth, you killed it, _he mind-spoke with distaste. The thing sprawled with a broken neck.

_I am sorry, I didn't mean to!_

"No! My friend! How could you? They just wanted to protect me!" Lessa screamed, not resisting this time as he grabbed her, too busy crying.

A prick of guilt ate at his heart. He was only too glad when they went between and he could have, for a few moments, peace and quiet. A part of him felt smug, though. So Lessa could speak to watch-whers, hmm? That made her even more talented a candidate than he'd thought. He'd chosen well. She'd calm down, eventually. A pair of rainbow eyes staring at her would certainly win her over; he was confident she would impress, and then, she would be the weyr's.

And his.

.

* * *

.

_Candidate life._

Lessa was not pleased. At all.

She had been extremely angered when the dragon rider, that sharding F'lar, had not argued against the man wanting to kill everyone but rather the fact there would be no candidates or tithes if he destroyed the hold like that. Tradition. Everything was tradition with the man. Why had he not just stabbed Fax from the beginning and be done with it? Why had he needed excuses at all?

The bastard had the nerve to give her hold over to some runt, too.

The sharp cold of between made her still, half of her fearful she would never feel anything but cold again. She had stopped screaming, which she supposed F'lar was grateful for, but truly she had not done it to do him any favors at this point. No, she needed to weigh her options.

If she impressed, it would make her powerful indeed. As weyrwoman, he might, hopefully, actually have to listen to her. Everyone would have to listen to her. She would not be so powerless as this ever again. She still could not believe, and resented, that he had kidnapped her. Honestly, she did just want to stay at her Hold and rule it. It was _hers._

And this man had stolen it from her and expected her to be thankful for it? Not on her life.

She stepped off his dragon when they landed, seething, then stumbled, feeling faint.

_I am injured from the battle,_ she realized, the shock beginning to wear away and the pain from a cut in her side setting in. She closed her eyes and felt him carry her away. She was so lightweight that it did not seem to give him any difficulty, and that probably did not help with her feeling dizzy in the slightest.

She almost fell unconscious, but roused when she felt his hands on her clothes. By the egg, was he trying to undress her? Was the bastard genuinely that much of a scallion, to have his way with her while he thought she slept? (2)

She was given to others to tend, and finally, with F'lar no longer alone with her, she felt safe enough to sleep. Not that her body gave her much choice in the matter.

When she woke, she found herself in new chambers, and delighted in new clothes and a bath. Such were luxuries she had not had in some time, and the water was pleasantly warm here, and the soap quite fine too. She was startled to see herself in the mirror; so much prettier than she had ever dreamed. Was this an advantage, or something she would come to rue? Better than being ugly and treated as stupid for it as some were prone to, perhaps.

With a frown, she realized her good time was being cut short; The Bastard was back, as she was coming to dub F'lar. He arrived at her chambers, and she felt glad she had gotten dressed.

"Mm, you look good enough for my brother," he teased.

Lessa, if glares could kill, would have ended him twice over. He was not in her good graces now, and that was his sick idea of a joke? Unfortunately, she was trapped here. There was nothing she could do but grit her teeth here.

"Tend my wound, would you? If you are well enough yourself," he amended his statement marginally, only now acknowledging she had been unwell at any point, which was something. "Since you are up and about, you must be."

Feeling trapped and frustrated, she eyed the exits but knew trying to escape would do no good without a dragon. "Fine."

She tended him, and the time that passed after was not quite so horrible. The food was excellent. Her chambers were wonderful, not being looked at like a flea on the floor was wonderful, having proper clothes instead of rags was wonderful, it was all... almost all, wonderful. If only she had been here willingly on her own time. Would it have killed him to give her a day or three, shard him?

She looked... forward to hatching, almost. At least then she would be one step closer to freedom. And power over this fool.

.

* * *

.

Hatching time.

"Get undressed."

What the fuck? she thought very uncouthly. Who did The Bastard think he was?

"It's hatching time. Get dressed, or I will strip you."

Sharding sharding bastard. Lessa seethed. Only a bit more of this, she promised. Only a bit more, and she would have a dragon, or fail to have a dragon and could go back home hopefully regardless. A part of her felt fearful over what would happen if she did not impress; would they keep her here forever against her will? Keep her as another potential candidate or make her into some drudge again?

As soon as she changed, he grabbed her and hauled her on Mnemeth, an uncomfortably familiar experience but hopefully the last time.

As for the hatching... she could not help but stare unhappily at the big gold dragon wasting away on the sands, the great gold dying even as her children were hatching into first life. She shied away as dragonets mauled candidates left and right, most of them children. She couldn't help but feel deep sorrow for them. Was this normal, so many dying? Was this what usually happened to those who didn't impress? They just died on the sands where they stood?

When the gold came in her direction, she almost bolted, watching as an unfortunate girl screamed and had her neck broken.

_This isn't worth losing my li-_

Rainbow eyes met hers.

_My Lessa? _Came an uncertain voice. A rush of feelings, hunger mostly, and fear, came into her head, as well as great warmth. _Don't you want me, don't you want Ramoth?_

A weird feeling passed over her, as if this darling, adorable baby dragon was the most important thing in the entire world. It needed her. It had no one and nothing else. "Of course I will take care of you, Ramoth."

_What did I just swear to? _A part of her reconsidered, but she felt so good and warm that she dismissed it and went to get Ramoth food. This gold was her partner now, needed her, and the feeding would help cement the bond. _Will you help me, Ramoth?_

_Of course, Lessa. Help you with what? _

Ramoth was so innocent, it was cute.

_Take over, of course. _She thought back, no longer speaking so no one could overhear her plotting so openly.

_I will do anything for you._ Ramoth promised, mouth open and begging._ Please feed me._

Glad at the confession, she gave Ramoth her first feeding. The Bastard would rue this hatching, she was sure of that; she was going to be weyrwoman, and this weyr needed her now, did it not? That had to correlate with some kind of leverage. Perhaps Ruatha could even be hers again. After all, they did not exactly need a gold to do much more than, oh, lay eggs, did they?

And how in the world were they going to stop her, she thought smugly? Threaten to kill her dragon? Not likely.

.

* * *

.

_Riderlife._

"We can't risk training you the same way as the other riders," he told her, to her frustration. "But I will teach you a bit."

History lessons. No flight lessons. Blerg.

Soon. Soon things would change.

She found herself promising herself that, a lot. And Ramoth was growing quite nicely.

R'gul was the current weyrleader, and she found herself distracted by the thought of him going to trade with the holds. Fax had not gained support on thin air; there was rank discontent about tithes all around and the candidate taking.

She considered encouraging a rider to go on a raiding mission to get her weyr supplies, but, after a moment, considered against it. It was too risky right now. And she was not entirely certain she did not sympathize with the holds. The dragon riders, they did take a lot, and they had not protected her hold when it had needed it.

Mating flight time was coming soon. She found herself.. concerned about it. The rule that whoever had their dragon catch her Ramoth became leader was dumb, but it did give potential. She found herself looking over potential bronze and even brown and blue riders, knowing this might be a chance to curry favor with one and choose for herself someone pliable to be weyr leader. All she had to do was convince Ramoth to do her bidding and let who she wanted do the catching and that was easy enough.

F'lar The Bastard was naturally right out. She was still miffed at him. But F'nor his brother she actually considered. She doubted F'nor would try flying against his brother though, which was a shame.

R'gul... the current weyrleader might not be too bad. He had been making some small effort to get her to like him, making sure she had news of his plans and such.

.

* * *

.

Flight.

_I am ready, _Ramoth had told her to her alarm. Lessa knew what she referred to immediately.

_Are you sure? Do you want to do this?_

Ramoth was puzzled at that. _I feel the urge. Is that not the same as wanting?_

_No, _Lessa thought to her. _If you are not truly ready, we can wait and find a dragon you like._

The great gold disagreed with this. She did want to, it was time.

She fed, drinking blood solely, and rose.

.

* * *

.

It was a disaster.

F'lar...

_he had said nothing of this. _Nothing of what it would be like. Given her no choice. He had been rough. And guilt filled her. She regretted him catching her, regretted having lost her mind to passion too much to fight, but more, regretted that she'd had to merge her mind with Ramoth's so that she could not fight in the first place, barely even aware of what he'd done to her body.

The bastard.

"It is how things are done in the weyr, I thought you knew. I didn't know it was your first time," he protested. "Everyone loses themselves to dragon passions."

"You could have let me lock myself away in a room!" she sobbed. "Why do you ruin everything?"

"I don't ruin everything! I got you your dragon, why aren't you thankful?" he shook her roughly. "I am Weyrleader now, you have to respect me!"

Then, a messenger arrived.

"The Holders are attacking. There's an army at our gates. You are asked to convene for an emergency council. As Weyrleader, it is up to you what to do."

"Yes, of course," he stood up and left her there.

Revenge smoldered in Lessa's heart. She followed, only long enough to listen in to some of their plans before slipping away unnoticed.

Soon?

No.

_Now. Now is the time._

Standing up, she went to go, making sure no one took suspicion of her as she headed toward Ramoth. Surely the Holders would welcome a renegade and one of their own?

_Lessa? _Ramoth thought to her uncertainly.

_We go, Ramoth, and we must be silent. We will fly home at last. We will fly to my home._

Ramoth did not entirely like that plan. She was a dragon, she belonged here. Yet she hated too how Lessa had been hurt. No one truly cared about Lessa here, except Ramoth it seemed, and maybe F'nor who had been kind to her and never rough like F'lar.

"Holders!" she greeted, flying out to them.

"A wretched rider, tell your people that-"

"Wait, let me speak! I'm not on their side," Lessa began. "While I agree that tithes are necessary, they take too much and have far too little respect. They kidnapped me and made me a candidate; I, who am rightful ruler of Ruatha, not that brat Jaxom the riders put there. They claim to protect us, but did they lift a finger against Fax? No. They have fallen in their duties. Thread is all they care for. Listen, you stand little chance against them alone. They would not flame you, but even now they plan to go to your holds and take your wives and children hostage."

"What? They wouldn't!"

"They would. I cannot stop it, either, but I have given you warning. For now, pretend to cede to them."

Abruptly, dragons winked into the air out of nothing, appearing right around her.

"Lessa, what are you doing here?" F'lar exclaimed in astonishment. "Well, no matter. Holders, we have your holds and loved ones hostage. Give in now."

"Very well."

"That... really, not even a protest?" F'lar was suspicious, but mostly pleased. "Alright then. You have been disrespecting tradition for too long. I want proper care of the holds and of the tithes, now that I am Weyrleader I will not be tolerating foolishness."

Lessa could not help but inwardly snarl at the reminder of him becoming Weyrleader. Enough of this nonsense.

"As you wish, Master Dragonrider."

"That is much better," F'lar smirked.

.

* * *

.

Renegade.

"Must you tense every time I come near you, and shower so often? I would almost expect you to be avoiding me, you always seem to shower when I arrive at your chambers. I really did wish you had not been a virgin you know. I'm sorry about that."

Lessa felt that too dangerous to respond to truthfully.

"Thread is coming soon, you know."

She did not speak to this either.

F'lar sighed. There was a heavy silence between them. "Some day you will enjoy my lovemaking. I am not a bad lover. I must say, you are not anything like the previous weyrwoman, a lazy creature, and far more beautiful as well."

She did not say anything to that either.

"I could teach you to go between," he offered finally and uncertainly. "I could tell you the technique at least."

She jumped at that, a smile on her face. "I'd like that."

Truly, would she never love him, he wondered?

.

* * *

.

It did not go so well. Lessa visited Ruatha, just to see if she could. For a moment, she had wished she could go back in time and stop Fax. This did not happen, though. Wishes like that don't come true in real life.

F'lar was furious.

"Where did you go for so long?" he shouted.

_She made no move to evade him as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently._ "Where? Why did you think that was a good idea? You could have risked Ramoth doing something so risky! Why!"_ He was spitting with anger, punctuating each question that tumbled from his lips with a head-wrenching shake. She reached out to catch at his arms, but he shook her again. Lessa cried louder, clutching at him distractedly because he kept jerking her off balance. She couldn't organize her thoughts with him jolting her around.(3)_

Finally, he stopped. "Ruatha, okay? I was at Ruatha. F'lar, I've had enough. I've had enough of this, of you."

"What do you mean?"

"You hurt me. You hurt me just now." She moved her hand to her sore shoulders. "You hurt me before. You don't listen to me."

"I'm not a bad guy," he protested.

"What does that have to do with anything? Does you saying that change the fact you hurt me?" Lessa turned away from him and remounted Ramoth.

"You really could have gotten yourself killed pulling that stunt. You weren't ready to go between yet."

"So that's your justification?"

"Well, yes," he said.

"Fuck yourself, F'lar. You have other gold riders; go to the other Weyrs and ask for their help, why don't you? I'm gone."

"Wait, Lessa, no!" His eyes and mouth grew wide in alarm and he shouted, realizing the terrible mistake he'd done. Not, she suspected, realizing the mistake of mistreating her, but the mistake of letting her have an avenue of escape.

She winked between again, a renegade.

Her only regret was that she'd told him about Ruatha. Hers, now, unless they forced her to flee from home again. Hopefully it would not come to that. She could prepare, and her people were, she hoped, still loyal. As well, she had secretly been cultivating allies among the holders. If Ruatha proved unavailable, she had other places she could hide.

It was time.

Now, Lessa was finally free.

.

* * *

.

_Lady of Ruatha. Freelife._

To be honest, Lessa was surprised this had never happened before. No dragon rider had ever gotten tired of the others and gone rogue?

They had been frantic looking for her, but the spies she had sowed served her well. No one suspected drudges after all, or the other lowly folk. If there was one thing that bothered her, it was loneliness. A part of her had grown attached to F'lar simply because he was, well, there.

Not a good state to be in, to be honest.

The clutch, Ramoth's clutch, bothered her. She did not want all the hatchlings to die. She had tried to gather as many candidates as possible in secret, but it was tough. Dragon riders had been making attacks on holds, predictably, to try and force her out, and her only advantage was that they depended on Holds too for food and did not actually know where she was lurking. More than once, she had between on top of some unwary rider and gave them a good scare; Ramoth was bigger than anyone, so an air grapple against another dragon was not exactly difficult. As long as it was one dragon, or even two, Ramoth was aerial queen.

And no dragon wanted to attack a queen in any case. Scaring them off then was quite easy. Sometimes all she had to do was yell at them. At some point, though, one would bring others and they would converge on her, and she'd have to escape between. As long as they did not know where she was going, she was safe. There was no way they could capture her.

The amount of freedom was amazing, actually. She wondered why no one had ever done this before.

And now this clutch. Hers. Dragons and their riders that would grow up without the weyr's traditions breathing down on their backs. This was exactly the leverage she needed. Pern was hers, now. No one would ever dare defy her again with a dragon army, populated with candidates personally loyal to her.

Stupid F'lar.

He had given her everything, including this clutch. And now he would get to choke on it. The man had to be shaking himself silly with worry and frustration right now. The only problem was if she had too few impression-worthy candidates.

Unless...

Babies impress upon their parents, baby animals bond with their own species. Take them and feed them as your own and they bond to you instead. The need to impress was so deep that dragons would die without it. But, where did the urge to impress come from in the first place? What purpose, if not to bond with a parent? The urge of parent dragons to bond with their young had been removed, clearly, but, the mechanism was still there. Impression was still there.

"Ramoth, could you try feeding your own young?"

Ramoth was quite puzzled.

_I could try, Lessa. I hear your plan. I don't know if it will work, or if it should. I am already impressed to you, it is... not done._

_You know I don't care about tradition, Ramoth. Do you not care about your children? Don't you want to raise them? _Lessa stroked Ramoth encouragingly.

_I don't know how to raise them, Lessa, humans always do that. But it does sound wonderful. Do you really think I could take care of my own hatchlings? Keep the ones without any candidates from dying? _Ramoth's eyes swirled concerned colors, as the eggs began to hatch. They had not fared so well without good hatching grounds, though they had tried to get the best they could in secrecy, but Ramoth had tended them with her own heat night and day without break. And now some were stirring.

_If you could simply delay it until they find a candidate, that would be wonderful enough. I don't think anyone has ever tried this before. And what if not just you fed them, but many candidates did? If feeding is what fixes impression, wouldn't more be better, bonding not just to dragons but to people?_

The first egg split itself, a little green staring up at them.

_Hello, little one. Say hello to your mama._

* * *

-(1) Quoted from the book.

-(2) Yes, he does try to take her clothes off in the book when she is unconscious from Fax injuring her. And it's not to check if she's okay either!

-3 more quotes.

I don't know if I will do any more of this. It is quite AU enough and seems fairly finished; Lessa escapes and makes her own weyr of sorts, the end. And possibly some sort of dragons-become-free-apocalypse, although they are far too friendly to turn on anyone even with freedom. That bit is based on the fact that multiple firelizards will feed the young hatchlings, suggesting that normally, firelizards impress on many members of the colony and more importantly, that they impress on their own species.

The minor changes I made at the beginning managed to make F'lar seem into even more of an ass if that's possible, since he never kidnapped Lessa in canon. Some of it is just having someone _disagree_ with him. And considering how much of him is near-quoted or outright quoted from the book, he doesn't seem very out of character to me here; after he never showed any sign of saying 'Fax, you killed loads of people, prepare to die', no, he was all 'Tradition!'.

As you can tell, I do not agree with the idea that lowly drudges are all stupid, so I invented Nan as a friend to Lessa; she will be perhaps the point of change that caused all this to alter, the person who alters Lessa's personality slightly.


End file.
